


A Competition

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, BAMF Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), BAMF Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Haired Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Slow Burn, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28950555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Technoblade is Emperor of the Antarctic Empire after his father, Emperor Ph1lza, abdicated. Once and yet-still cloaked in mystery, he hosts a tournament to find a suitor worthy of one of his prestige.While other royals unabashedly watch, he hears of a commoner that may end up winning his hand, and perhaps his heart.
Relationships: Antfrost & Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Antfrost/VelvetIsCake (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sam | Awesamdude, Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Darryl Noveschosch & Wilbur Soot, GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch, GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu/Wilbur Soot, Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & Technoblade, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 46
Kudos: 532
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Emperor

**Author's Note:**

> As a bit of a preface: Most everyone is a royal here. Technoblade has some vision issues, but not total blindness. Sleepy bois are family. Dreamnoblade is the focus ship.
> 
> There is a mention of Call Me Carson in this chapter, however he isn't meant to be a good character in it.

"Emperor." His advisor, Viscount Ranboo, hair half anthracite and half alabaster. That was all he cared to know him as. Any further and he may grow attached. Ranboo wouldn't last long, fear would end up chasing him off.

He lifted his head from his palm in regard, old throne creaking faintly. The air was bitingly cool, but he liked it that way. Snow had begun to drift in through a window, which Ranboo quickly snapped shut. It was the _Antarctic Empire_ , after all.

"Yes, Viscount?" Nothing shone into his tone, just that same steel his citizens had grown to abhor. Not by his lack of good ruling, no, but by the cruel and biting undertone it always brought behind its otherwise monotone.

"Prince NotFound of the Greater SMP and his company, Dukes Nappitus and Halo, will be joining us for the coming week. Alliances, I'm assuming. Prince Wilbur didn't give much detail." Rigid. Just as fearing as the rest. That was one of the reasons for the competition: he wanted one who wouldn't fear him as he'd grown to himself.

A scowl, although lighthearted, lead anthracite and alabaster to shiver. "Adjust my schedule accordingly, and tell Prince Wilbur not to schedule diplomatic work without a word of warning again."

Ranboo nodded, anthracite and alabaster momentarily blending into a slate from the vigor of it.

Footsteps and then silence again.

_**E** _

_**Ranboo pog?** _

_**What happened I havent watched for 2 months** _

_**🦀RANBOO IS GONE CRAB RAVE🦀** _

_**Technohater14 was muted for Spam by skypowergirl** _

_**TECHNOSUPPORT 💜** _

_**E** _

_**BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD** _

Silence wasn't much welcome. The voices were loudest then, and his already near-gone vision seemed to blur further. Thankfully, black, yellow, and the scent of honey had entered the throne hall. Or Lord Tubbo, Tommy's best friend and closest confidant.

"Hey Technoblade," he always insisted on calling him by his full name, "Tommy wanted me to ask if we could have cake for dinner."

"Ask the chefs." Honey-scent knew him, so the ice and faint venom quite commonplace had faded from his tone.

"They already said no."

The kid looked nervous, fiddling with the edge of his furred black and yellow robe. His cheeks were flushed from what he could tell, breathing faintly ragged. Had they spent too much time in the snow again?

"It would've been no, but you seem ill. If Tommy is as well, you can request some honey cake and warm tea on my order. But you need dinner as well."

Tubbo walked off, and he focused on the clock beside him. What was close was far less blurry. And Wilbur, who's every movement he had memorized. That's how he noticed the scars he had, however few he'd succeeded in getting. It wasn't perfect to make out, by the cracks in the glass of the clock and the faint rust around the edges, but he could tell about what time it was. 5:00.

Faint curses spilled from his lips, the frigid air of the room clawing at him as he stalked toward the door morosely.

_**Technolate** _

_**E** _

_**Angry blade!** _

_**🦀TUBBO IS GONE CRAB RAVE🦀** _

_**jammers🔧: frames are dropping** _

Cloth a shade of blue so vibrant his eyes could barely register it. It trailed a mahogany table, carvings on the length of it that detailed the history of the Empire. Half of the table was blank. The light was cold, pooling into the far-warmer room in brilliant rays, only obstructed by similarly intricate chairs and the people in them.

He'd nearly missed the meeting's start, and the antarctic royalty was not happy. Punctuality was expected.

"5 minutes of my time wasted, Emperor Minecraft. I might forego the next meeting at this rate." King Manifold of Manifoldland, a protectorate state of the Empire far more than reliant on it. Manifold was merely a puppet, but his eyes - one red, one blue - were set malignantly toward him.

"You wouldn't dare risk it, King Manifold." Biting and dismissive, garnering a flinch from the figurehead. Perfect. "Start the meeting, I believe you all mean no ill-will toward my simple mistakes of being select minutes late. Fashionably, of course."

Begrudging nods.

His second advisor, Count Voiceover, cleared his throat, giving his papers a thorough look-over. He'd been his father's advisor before him, but had grown old, so he'd therefore attempted to find a second one. Ran through about 6 different advisors. Ranboo had lasted the longest.

"The first topic is your competition, Emperor. Many here have questions about it." Fond mannerisms and silver hair loosed the tension in his shoulders, and his milky ruby eyes settled into their usual state of condescending.

Not that they were seen, hidden behind the mask of a boar. A mask that hid the worst of his scars.

Stifling his sigh with a bored yawn, further maintaining his image of needing little help and self-righteous(not that either were wrong), his tone was no more than a conniving purr. "Ask away."

A pudgy male, new to the council, with the set of an earl spoke up. "Why are you allowing males to participate? As Emperor, don't you need to produce an he-"

"Tell me, what is your name, Earl."

Deafening silence, beyond the soft gulp from the boy.

"Call me Carson."

"Count Voiceover, would you escort Earl Carson here to the prison for blatant homophobia? It is well known that those who like the other or both sexes take on a mister or mistress simply to produce an heir."

A few other royals gave sidelong glances, but spoke nothing.

"Of course, dearest Emperor."

Another royal, an old friend of his, Schlatt, went to speak. He scarcely drew a breath before he was interrupted.

Rage simmered off of him in waves, his demeanor having shifted entirely. There was some sort of mania, but mania directed toward a cause. And a strange vibrance. Bloodlust. Ruthless, dauntless bloodlust.

"Meeting adjourned."

>=========<

_"Wilby..." a young Emperor - then Crown Prince - grasped outward toward nothing. He looked sickly, usually vibrant hair having paled to a shade of strawberry milk. His pasty skin was flushed and beads of sweat ran along the creases of his skin. He was writhing as if burning, despite the frigid air._

_A so-called Wilby was there, just sitting in a chair not far away. He perked up for a moment at the voice, before realizing the intonation of it and the purpose of the writhing._

_He sipped a cloth - a brilliant shade of blue, perhaps ultramarine - in a vat of freezing water. The boy faintly shivered, but quickly moved to place the cloth on Techno's forehead._

_"It'll be fine. You'll overcome the bloodlust curse. You'll be strong," he giggled sadly, "even if you don't. We have the gold to satiate it. Maybe you'll find a suitor who can protect you better."_

_Despite the smile on his face, tears ran down his cheeks, still pudgy with baby-fat._

_"I've failed you as a brother... haven't I, Techie? You always could protect me for more than I could you." A pause. "Maybe I could help you lead... I know you've never wanted to. Maybe it's just part of the curse."_

_Knocking. Someone was at the door. Wilby gave a half-hearted come in._

_It was unmistakeably Count Voiceover, although far younger. He appeared dejected, but managed a smile at Wilbur's forlorn look._

_"Prince Wilbur, I know you'd like to attend to your brother as he's ailing but your mother..." he hesitated. "Her sickness has gotten worse." Each word was spoken slow and clear, as if it lessened the blow. It seemed he had more to say, but stopped at Wilbur's shaking._

_He held Technoblade's hand tightly. "And..?"_

_"She won't make it through the night."_

_Wilbur froze, world falling apart around him._

>=========<

His dining hall. Ornate articles of gold and increasingly intricate tapestries adorned it, delicious scents of freshly-cooked food wafting alongside it.

At the head of the table was his father. Phil. The kindest man he knew, but he hesitated far too much. Scared of hurting them after the loss of their mother, he took to adventuring. Wounds of a lack of parental affection were far worse. 'Least he was trying to make things work now.

To his left sat a blond, chattering intensely with Lord Tubbo. The skin around his eyes was puffy, and some snot dribbled from his nose. His voice was hoarse too, he could tell from the booming laugh. Sick, like he'd assumed.

To his right sat a brunet. He himself and the brunette looked remarkably similar, beyond Techno's hair, scars, shark teeth and underbite. Had those features been removed and his hair brunet, they'd have been identical. Even down to the glasses - same wire frames with tape repair across the nose-bridge.

He sat next to the brunet, looking down at the beautiful plate of food in front of him. It was just the five of them, but it felt... off.

Tommy's chatter drowned out the voices.

Most of them, at least.

_**Blood?** _

_**Kill them.** _

_**DEATH** _

_**BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!** _

Temptation to draw his netherite blade arose, whether to run it through he himself or one of those in the room. The voices were shouting and he wanted them to stop. It was as if sirens were sounding in his ears, seductive yet deafening and leaving his ears ringing.

He placed his head in his hands.

A cool hand prodded his neck, accompanied by the running of another through his hair. Soft humming, and the dangling of a gold chain right in front of his eyes so that he could make out each link down to the finest grainy detail.

_**Shiny?** _

_**Take.** _

_**Gold!** _

_**TECHNOSUPPORT 💜** _

The chain was looped around his neck. Just the normal voices now.

>=========<

His bed was welcoming, with the soft, heavy covers. Most often, beyond his sleep, he much preferred the cold. Now the warmth was welcoming.

Tomorrow you'll have to greet Prince NotFound. Lord Tubbo's cousins, King Eret and Princess Niki, will be visiting in a week's time. Two days from now the competition will take place. You'll have to fill out the letters for the estate ball in two weeks. Your tutors will be checking on your fighting skills so that they don't fall out of loop in three days time...

It droned on. That's why, when he blacked out, he was happiest. In sleep, there were no duties to worry about. No voices to hear. No mention of the curse.


	2. Sign-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Dream and company before he signs up to the competition, and a wholesome moment between the twins.

His friend was cold, cold to the point it worried him. _Near-dead_ cold. They didn't have enough money to afford medicine, even with all the jobs Sam, Velvet and him had taken. He was watching Ant now, watching the cat-hybrid take ragged breaths.

There was no real assurance with the disease consuming him. Luckily he hadn't contracted a contagious strain. Those were always harder-fought. But it still hurt to see a friend suffering.

The door opened and quickly closed, twin sets of footsteps racing toward the beside.

"Is he any worse? Any better?" Velvet sounded desperate.

"Hasn't changed." His voice was scarcely there. He'd screamed it out far too many times into his pillows. "At least he hasn't gotten worse."

Sam's breath hitched from the other side of the bed. "What if he doesn't get better, Dream? It's been fourteen months, fourteen months of working ourselves to the bone. Our health is getting worse, and what funds do we have to take care of ourselves?"

Velvet gave a tired sigh, chewing his cheek for a moment. "I might have a way to get some." 

For a moment, there was tense and despairing, yet hopeful silence. He rummaged through his bag, pulling out a flyer in some shade of antarctic blue. On the corner was the royal seal of approval in stark white, contrasting with the depths of the blue. The writing came in a similar shade.

"This. Sam and I wouldn't be the best suited for it. You, Dream..." he sounded hopeful. Something Dream was glad of after the past months.

_ROYAL COMPETITION_   
_A competition has been decreed to take place from the 24th of September to some point in early January. Accomodations will be provided by the Empire. The rewards include:_   
_\- An estate in L'Manburg for your family_   
_\- Access to the castle keep: the stronghold_   
_\- Emperor Minecraft's hand in marriage_

_Participants will undergo a series of movement and fighting challenges over the course of weeks._

_May a suitor find their place,_   
_Prince Wilbur Soot Minecraft_

The paper crumpled slightly in his hand. It... he had no words. With the rewards, he could help Ant. But he'd get married to a likely conceited royal individual he knew nothing about - his friends were worth more.

"I'll do it."

Velvet looked skittish, shoving him up. "Better hurry, sign-ups close tonight."

>=========<

Was he really doing this? Signing his life away for a pittance any should've been able to afford? It was worth it, yes, but he couldn't help the aggravation. At his side was a cheaply-enchanted diamond axe. A family heirloom, the best he had.

For the qualifiers, you needed to register your weapon with the artificer.

Holding out the axe carefully, a man took it. His appearance briefly shimmered to that of a woman, and he scribbled something down. A changeling. How rare.

"Sharpness two, unbreaking one. Good luck."

No more words were exchanged, and he left the sign-up booth, mind bequeathed with wishes for sleep.

They only had a measly hovel.

>=========<

_"Dream stop chasing me!" a whine, followed by Ant's ears folding._

_A young Dream pouted. "You're the last one I gotta tag though!"_

_Ant's gaze was frightened, and his voice was scratchy. He stopped, wheezing and falling into a fit of coughing. His tail was forced outward rigidly, as he hacked up bile mixed with blood._

_Dream tapped him, soothingly rubbing circles on his back in worry._

_The illness waa becoming worse again, wasn't it?_

_Terminal, the doctor had called it. He didn't truly know what the word meant, so he simply said deathly. Ant was fated to die, getting sicker and sicker by the day._

_"It'll be okay Ant," determination eased into his words, "you'll get better."_

_He let go, and Ant gave a weak smile, cuffing Dream's shoulder with no real strength behind it. "Tagged you, no tag backs!"_

_Dream did a spit take. "But that's not how it works! I'd have just tagged you!"_

_It didn't matter, Ant had collapsed onto the floor. Words had been too much, and all he could do was scream for help. Scream and scream and scream for help until his voice was hoarse._

>=========<

His fist clenched, brow furrowing in the same determination he felt that day. A soft mutter escaped his lips. "You'll get treatment Ant. You'll get better. I promise."

>=========<

He entered the morning meeting with a sense of happiness. It was only Wilbur, Phil, and his advisors in the room. No need for stress over social interaction, and he could set the day in order. However annoying it was, it was better with them.

Punctual, this time. He might be a few minutes late to the afternoon meeting just to annoy King Manifold again.

Or perhaps not. He swore, the King had a stick up his arse and would rat out his lateness to Pete, who would tell Wilbur, who would complain to him while braiding his hair aggressively. It had become a bi-weekly practice. Something he wasn't too annoyed or consumed by, yet something he had to mentally prepare for.

Will could be scary when he was mad.

"Viscount Ranboo, could you begin preparations for the arrivals later today? Count Voiceover, set up a meeting with the head of the guard. Haven't a report in over a week!" Pete chuckled at that, nodding. "Father, could you get the doctor for Tommy and Tubbo since they've come ill?"

It was just him and Wilbur now, his twin giving an affectionate smile.

"Heard you found a girl that fits your liking, Wilby." The brunette flushed in embarrassment and dopey love. His sheer happiness brought a smile to his lips, as he removed his mask to make the conversation feel more real.

"Y'know Tubbo's cousin, Princess Niki?" Techno nodded, and Wilbur's blush yet deepened.

"I thought she'd taken a liking to you," he chuckled, "I can see how much you like her just by that blush. She'll be visiting in a week, yes?"

Wilbur nodded, leaning against Techno's shoulder from the chair next to him. It waa domestic, thoughtful. Something they did often, just like Wilbur running his hands through his hair. Silence, yet the voices were absent. They needn't speak to one another, simply being there was communication enough.

"Can I style your hair? You look as though you haven't brushed it."

He scowled fondly. "Sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side ships so far:  
> \- Niki and Wilbur  
> \- Ant and Velvet
> 
> Feel free to ask for more! :D


	3. Diplomacy and a Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince NotFound is visiting the Antarctic Empire. Dream enters the qualifiers.

Anxiety formed a lump in his throat, and he shook faintly. Sure, the GreaterSMP was powerful, but the Antarctic Empire was one of the if not the most powerful nation on the continent. It's leader had little known about them - not even gender. All that was known was their skill as a fighter and their intense bloodlust. Establishing good relations would be a great step for his Kingdom.

"Bad, how much longer until we reach L'Manburg?" 

The demon hybrid - a rare subspecies of human - ran his hand along the lining of the carriage. "3 hours or so. We should put on our coats soon too... L'Manburg is quite cold, from what I remember. I'm not even sure if they heat the stronghold!"

"Then I have plenty of time to ask some questions, correct?" his other comrade, Duke Sappitus Nappitus, or as they called him, Sapnap, nodded.

He hummed lightly in thought, lilting and angelic. They called him a King who could crack even the most stone-cold hearts for a reason. He was half Changeling, often used for the purposes of seduction. It was something he often used to maintain calm in diplomacy. That didn't always go so well.

"What do you know about the Emperor?"

Bad froze, and he was confused. He'd heard rumors, yes, but what was truly so abhorrent as to induce fear into a demon? A faint picking sounded as the demon nervously dug his nails into his arms. Sapnap pulled his hands away.

"I don't know much, and Bad..." he trailed off. There was nothing further to be said.

"We'll find out soon enough. Sapnap, could you give me my coat, as was recommended?" Bad was still shivering, and Sapnap obliged.

>=========<

The qualifiers. Qualifiers for a competition that was for the life or death of one of his best friends. Bile rose in his throat out of apprehension, and vitriol-coated determination flooded into his shadows gaze.

"The 16th duel in the tourney qualifiers will take place between Axe wielder Dream and Sword Alyssa!"

He scrambled into the stadium, coming face-to-face with a meek looking brunette. She looked faintly sickly, skin a shade of olive that had paled three-shades too much. A mask cloaked her expression. Why was one ill participating?

There was no room for sympathy. It was a matter of life-or-death, and he knew he had the skill to win. Sympathy would just get in his way.

Metal clanged against metal, bitter sound ringing around the arena. His axe bit into her shaking shoulder from the force of the blow, and her faintly-rusted iron sword bent slightly.

Fear sank into her auburn eyes. Like leaves in the fall.

>=========<

_He was crying over a gravestone, the earth before it preaching unrest. It's stone was cheaply made, crude and haphazard. A single lily bloom sat on the woken earth, and a boy let tears run down his cheeks._

_Amelia ******* was taken by ******._   
_**** ** **-**** ** **_

_The dates didn't matter. She was dead either way. What mattered was her first name - much else carved far too quickly for the work to be discernible. He didn't want to be reminded of that last name anyway._

_He was just Dream now._

_Dream wasn't taken, still here, still suffering. Tears fell faster, leaving dark spots on the upturned earth._

_Just Dream now._

_There was a hand rested on his shoulder, and he woke up from his thoughts. A dark smiley face on white met shades of green with a strange frown._

>=========<

A cry, and Alyssa was limping to the medics. The announcer seemed nervous as he stood there, silent.

"Our winner is Axe-wielder Dream!"

It didn't feel like a win. She likely needed it just as much as he did. Maybe for ailing family too? That didn't matter. He'd just fought harder, gotten one step closer. But maybe in doing so, it'd been one step too far.

People in the crowds were whispering his name.

He headed home.

>=========<

_**BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD** _

_**E** _

_**theres someone at the door** _

_**Technowork** _

There was a knock on the door of his office. Quickly, he signed the last of the letters for the upcoming ball, adjusting his mask. Phil.

"Yes?" his golden ring clicked against the wood of his desk, the grain of it fading from comprehension as he stood up.

"Got the results from the competition qualifiers." Oh. "2000 participated. 1000 won. There are a few people of interest." Phil handed him a scroll, which adjusted to clarity as he held it closer. The ink was gold. Tacky.

_**Shiny!** _

_**YOU MISSED DIAMONDS** _

_**beholdnonsense donated 30$** _   
_**TECHNOSUPPORT** _

_**it's pretty you should get more** _

_**homophobe2 was banned for homophobia by jammers** _

_Dream... Calvin... Nestor..._

Two names he recognized out of the three. Calvin was his companion in fighting, his closest friend outside of family. But he never knew his identity. Nestor was a Prince he'd grown close to. Likely joined for fun. Dream? He didn't know anything about him, or him himself. Why was he a point of interest..?

_...won his duel in a record time of 13 seconds._

That. That was actually impressive.

_**Dreamnoblade??** _

_**BLOOD** _

_**KILL THE STRONG** _

Of course, it had to make the bloodlust flare up. The normal voices quieter. He scraped some of the gold ink off the page. What burning sensation followed soothed him.

"Thank you, father. How much longer until Prince NotFound and his company arrive?"

Phil glanced at his grandfather clock, too blurry for he himself to read. The books said his condition would further worsen until he found one who'd balance the curse. He drew a breath.

"Half an hour or so. I'll get one of the maids to draw you a bath, and call the chefs to prepare for lunch."

"Thank you, Phil."

His father left the room. Yet, it wasn't quiet. Was it ever?

_**Outfit POG?** _

_**:technopepe:** _

_**🦀PH1LZA IS GONE CRAB RAVE🦀** _

_**E** _

_**FossilNet donated 100$** _   
_**Wear the antarctic sapphire earrings!** _

_**deathhhhhhhhhh** _

Right. Clothes. Now he was wearing his typical royal garments, far more clunky that what he for diplomatic events. But he'd have to.

Hog's mask. Blue cape. White shirt. The silver crown he had to wear for this. Sapphire earrings. Slacks. Tall boots. No weapons. A single gold locket and his favorite gold ring that twirled into glass that clutched blood-shaded ruby.

There was a knock at the door. His favorite maid, Puffy.

"I assume you have your outfit prepared? The bath's been drawn." Her voice was soft, long hair briefly fluffing up into sheep's wool before returning to the rainbow hair he'd grown accustomed to.

He nodded, holding the clothes out to her. "Yes. Hopefully Phil's set the preparations in order..." most of his words were under his breath, and he was soaking in warm water and rose petals only a minute or so later.

>=========<

L'Manburg was beautiful. Each building looked as if carefully carved from the surface of the earth, some suspended over a massive canyon that cut through the city. Deep in the depths of said canyon was a frozen river and the L'Manburg mines - the most resource-rich mines in the world. Tapestries were haphazardly thrown up to welcome him, and cheers sounded from an ornate sandstone coliseum.

At the center of it all was the crown jewel: a stone castle dusted with frost and vines, looking as if it had been there for centuries. And it had: far longer than the city itself. The stronghold was rumored to be the remains of an ancient civilization, though George scarcely believed it.

There wasn't much time to focus on the beauty of it though, as he was shivering within moments. It was as if the thickest layers couldn't shelter him from the biting cold that no stretch of the city seemed absent of.

Yet, the castle welcomed him.

Outside was a brunet he'd met before, with a tailored tux on. Beside him was a man with black and white hair, and a small array of guards in - was that enchanted diamond armor?

The figure he'd recognized. Right. He was wearing 2 or 3 expensive-looking items of jewelry, and a brilliant smile that made him feel far warmer than it ought have been. He had a wonderful husband back home: King Ninja. His flushed cheeks were only the fault of the cold.

Focusing in on the wealth, he felt cheated. He'd heard rumors, only rumors of course, but they didn't do it justice. Only royalty back home owned a set of diamond armor - and even then, they never war it, simply left it to gather dust. Each and every royal had around a dozen expensive items of jewelry from the Antarctic Empire, but they seemed to so unintentionally flaunt their wealth. Even the royal of a reasonably powerful Kingdom couldn't help but feel cheated.

Bad walked forward, taking the outstretched hand of the brunet. "Greetings, Prince Wilbur, Viscount Ranboo."

"Pleasure to meet the acquaintance of most," he glanced over them, "accommodations are readily provided, and lunch is prepared. I'm assuming this is Prince NotFound of the Greater SMP, and you are his second charge, Duke Nappitus?"

"Yes-" his reply was quickly interrupted, as the doors to the castle entrance were pulled open stiffly by two guards. Out came a man he'd met before - the retired Emperor Phil, and one unknown figures.

"I am Emperor Technoblade, Prince NotFound, Dukes Halo and Nappitus." Rigid, chilling, almost venomous.

Yeah, he was downright terrified of the man - no, _Emperor_ all the rumors were about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter, even if it is a bit all over the place!


	4. Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious figure. Dream receives a note. The visiting prince asks a question.

The sound of creaking paper echoes as a plethora of papers strewn across a desk haphazardly are leafed through. A figure cloaked in black is otherwise silent, occasionally flickering like the shadows of the room in candlelight.

_To whomever is the current head of the Royal Gaurd,_

_Emperor Technoblade would like to schedule a meeting with you, as he hasn't heard from you in a while. Has iTMG retired yet? If she has, I'd like to meet who else received this._

_Fondest regards,_  
_Prince Wilbur Soot Minecraft._

The letter is replaced with yet another, with a much more jaunting and messy scrawl.

_To Prince Wilbur Soot Minecraft,_

_The former head of the Royal Gaurd, iTMG, has, in fact, retired. She was my mentor, and I a protegé. Around six were cycled through before I ended up with the job. Honestly wish she hadn't retired, there were some issues with Pandora's Vault not long after. I don't feel safe disclosing said issues through a letter that can easily be intercepted or tampered with, so I'll tell the Emperor when we meet._

_I wonder if you've heard of me before, as I was rumored to be rather prodigal to royalty. Or, so said my contact in the Stronghold(he's a butler, quite loyal). In the case that you all are in danger, I dare not tell his identity, for he may be assassinated before the escape routes are complete._

_I'm afraid the state of the guard is rather tumultuous. It might be in your best interest to tighten castle security._

_Head of the Royal Gaurd, fruitberries._

The paper was replaced by another. Footsteps began to sound outside of the door, and the figure seemed to begin to warp and pull toward the window, open to the dark and cold night.

It's writing was far more haphazard. Rushed.

_To fruitberries,_

_Meet me at the location in two days at noon. As head of the Royal Guard, you know where. My brother will accompany me, as I believe this matter of the utmost importance by the content of your letter._

_George will also accompany us. If there is a threat on our home, he may be at risk alongside us._

_Wilbur._

Soon, the door began to open, and the papers floated for a moment before settling. Soundless. The figure who entered did not notice the last dregs of shadows slipping into the night sky.

"Oh, I left the window open."

It clicked shut.

>=========<

A cormorant tapped at his window, and he lifted himself from bed bleary-eyed. The cormorant looked as if mocking him, as if saying "Dream isn't worth more than those cheap scam gold coins from the shady dude down the street." Tied delicately around its leg in golden ribbon was a note.

As soon as he opened the window to let the bird in, it nipped off the ribbon and flew away, leaving only the parchment with flowing script in that same gold. It even shined the same as real gold!

... maybe it was. But that'd be a topic for another time.

_Dear tournament participant,_

_A carriage has been chartered to L'Manburg so that you may participate in the following sections of the tournament. Equipment and lodgings will be provided by the state of the Antarctic Empire. Stages include:_  
_\- Movement(courtesy of the head of the Royal Guard)_  
_\- Building and Redstone(courtesy of the son of Prince Wilbur)_  
_\- Dueling(courtesy of the Emperor himself)_  
_\- Survival(courtesy of the ex-emperor Phil Minecraft)._

_1000 suitors remain._

_Once the final 10 suitors remain, our Emperor will reveal himself, despite his inordinate reclusive nature(don't tell him I denoted that)._

_We expect you by tomorrow at 11:00PM sharp in town square._

_Royal Advisor, Viscount Ranboo_

It sounded akin to a death warrant, as if pleading the reader to not participate. As if they would be picked off one-by-one like mice. There was little evidence to point toward it.

The paper crinkled in his hands. One step closer. He'd see L'Manburg for the first time tomorrow.

>=========<

Fingers drummed across mahogany. A buzzing sounded in the foreground of his mind: the beginnings of a headache. Luckily, the content of his deep scowl was hidden behind his mask. He wasn't so good at hiding his emotions unless necessary.

Those fingers were that of Prince NotFound, who's gaze bore into him with intense fascination. Beside him, his company were eating the Antarctic Empire specialty lunch the chefs had prepared. Delicately filleted Meridian salmon - from the deepest depths of the coldest stretch of the canyon river. They were blue, unlike the tan of usual salmon, and burst with delightful color. Alongside them was a casserole of the finest of the Empire's potatoes - their main vegetable export. Beautiful sauce made of exotic herbs from the deep south(although not far from L'Manburg) and goat's milk coated the dish and gave the dish an elegant touch.

"Is the found to your liking, Prince NotFound?" it was one of the butlers - a ex-Lord Hbomb. He'd retired from his Lordship, wishing to live the life of a commoner. Though, he had connections to the palace and would never be quite normal as he wished.

"Hmm?" the Prince looked up from his plate, fork daintily picking up a glob of casserole. "Oh, yes, it's far more fanciful than I imagined. Never thought so far south would manage such delicacies." He cleared his throat, fork clinking against the edge of his plate. "I have a question for the Emperor."

Apprehensive tension began to build up within him. "Yes, Prince NotFound?"

He hummed. "Call me George. And, well, why are you hosting a tournament? I'd assume most royals fell into an arranged marriage..." he trailed off. "I suppose you're not most royals though, are you?"

"I'm not. And that's a long story... would you like me to surmise it into some tall-tale for you, George?"

It felt strange to be called George in such a bored monotone. Said monotone seemed to grow coated further in ice the more and more he prodded at him, trying to coax him out of his shell. He'd thought they could've been friends, perhaps. No. No, the Emperor was as cold-hearted as the rumors told.

Though, he hadn't known him that long. Assumptions would be far-fetched.

"If you're willing."

The Emperor nodded, leaning backward regally. His tone fell into a more soothing, like a gentle lullaby he'd wished never shut off. 'Twas simply... enchanting. As was his ability to tell the tall he'd proclaimed. _Well-worth it_ , his mind supplied.

"A Prince is born sickly. The heir, in fact. Although his country had the resources to cure the ailment, it couldn't." A pause for dramatic effect. "The Kingdom's, no, _Empire's,_ public knew of his illness. Yet they could do nothing for the sickly youth. As they do, rumors began to circulate, of a witch cursing him. Of course, the rumors were falsities, but many assumed true love could heal it anyway."

"It couldn't, truly, and the loving Prince died alone having bet on falsities. But, as he drew his final breath at the formative age of 23, he knew. A love could've healed it. No, not cursed the illness. Surely not. But satiated the pain. Happiness 'twas said to make you live longer, as is said today."

"Stories hold a semblance of truth, Prince NotFound." The formalities again. He wasn't sure if he liked them or not. "Although I may not be sickly, you never know what else is at play. Living in an unhappy marriage..."

There was nothing else to say beyond what oneself could supply.

The Emperor got up, clinked his goblet against his ring, and left. A boy with blue hair was ushered in, quickly taking the dishes.

He swore Bad blushed at the boy, but the demon would vehemently deny it, much to his scorn.

>=========<

_The diary of ********_

_It's cold. My land is foresaken. The curse persists._

_I fear it won't last longer._

_Soon._

_Or 'lest we fall, like the tyrants before us. Yes, with far more grace, and a symphony of suffering, but little else._

_Sic Semper tyrannis - thus always to tyrants._

_We all fall the same._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Might not update so much soon, shit came up.


	5. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno finds himself bored of conflict. Dream grows confident. A blade is a tool and a weapon, and neither is stronger than the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating yesterday, actually managed to get to sleep at a reasonable hour!

It was just after lunch, when Techno had retreated to his room, that there was a frantic knocking at the door. It was around 2PM when a leader was forced into his hand, and, amidst the sobbing of the carrier, he learned.

Bandit camps had sprung up some were taken in one of the outer villages.

Despite the many conflicts the Empire had fought and won in, few casualties arose. So beautifully few. But the sickening scent of wither roses seemed to grow around him the further he read, and the ink turned a deep black at the end.

It had been written in those roses.

Those roses that ate at the soul and mind until there was nothing left but a husk. Like that plague in the Badlands...

He'd grown distracted. Blaming the sobs, his door clicked shut.

_To whatever bastard Royal reads this,_

_Your Emperi has ruled too long. You control uz. We will revolt a fortnihgt. Those taht work hard deseve benefit!_

_The rebellion._

They couldn't even bother to come up with a creative name. There were spelling and grammatical errors. Frankly a disgusting work, and more on his plate. He'd done so much. The Empire was far more prosperous than in the time of his father.

_What had he done wrong?_

He shook. Anxiety, panic, a plethora of emotion he couldn't identify hit him with the full force of a raging typhoon.

_**BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!** _

_**Kill them all.** _

_**E** _

_**STAB THW ORPHANS!!** _

_**spare nowone** _

_**BURN THEM**_ 🔥 _**ARSOOOOOON!!!!!**_

_**BLOOD** _

They began to sing, a deafening lullaby that seemed like the attractive option now. No- he couldn't stamp them out. Then he'd be like those tyrants he hated.

The first ruler of the Empire...

He's have to look at their teachings. Sun Tzu wouldn't be enough this time.

>=========<

He sharpened his axe - a nervous habit. Completely unnecessary, as the tourney supplied those partaking with their own weapons. It didn't make sense. The danger and how they used it for the Emperor's hand. Was he so violent..?

Yes, he was. One of the Emperor's top Generals and closest friends, deemed Blade by the public, was a morose and powerful warrior. The Emperor was definitely violent.

But this? He'd been hesitant to believe it. Even if the chance wasn't perfect - he glanced at a sleeping Ant.

There that chance still was.

It only mattered if said chance bridled with or against him.

Though, couldn't one manipulate the playing field, if they were powerful enough? He didn't doubt it. And here he was. Powerful, at least somewhat. Just not in the ways of the Emperor.

The sky had grown dark and clouded, like half-lidded gaze. Twilight stars began to sparkle, ducking between clouds frivolously. To him, the sky was calming. Almost. It came either as a Dream, or as it's opposite. Something far less benevolent. Merciless. Maniac. A _nightmare._

He loved the sky because it shone what he wished to be come. And, when he needed it, what he feared.

Weren't nightmares, monsters, just fears of the unknown? _Unpredictable. Wild._

Just like him.

He'd win the tournament. He'd heal Ant. He'd take the Emperor's hand in marriage. And maybe he'd find that balance along the way.

>=========<

_Most of the Royal family was unknown, beyond the ex-Emperor Ph1lza. Now a new Emperor ruled in his place. His son, the crown prince. Just as unknown as the rest of the princes._

_Assuredly, he was a kind and gracious ruler. He believed in the benefit of the people, and an absence of conflict._

_For, when there was, he sent in the General all feared. One who could take them on armies with a mere flick of the sword. One with a name that caused incompetents to cower in fear. One simple name._

_Blade._

_Blade, a tool. Powerful, capable of cutting through enemy lines. But it could be used to till dirt too. Plant seeds of peace in the pace of blood._

_Above all else - Emperor, General - Blade was a farmer. Nothing more, nothing less._

_Bitter unrest arose. He was silent. An epidemic in the crops. He was silent. Internal conflict. He was there._

_But not in the way one might expect._

_A faded, painted wooden sign hanging over a stall, recently cut and still smelling of sawdust. It was a little rough around the edges, but what was there mattered more. Thousands if not tens or hundreds of thousands of potatoes._

_For free._

_For, if nothing else, Blade was a farmer. Despite that, he was a benevolent ruler too._

_Strange how a farmer, ruler, and blade all congregate, right?_

_Well, maybe they are one and the same._

_They profit off of the same use, after all._

>=========<

A meeting, just as night began to fall. Begrudgingly, he had to admit he didn't abhor the fact. Prince NotFound and his company were decent conversationalists. Apathetic. But this was a political climate now. _That?_ That didn't matter.

He was a martyr. His words were constrictive, wormed out all he needed. Yet they were pleading. They pleaded fate to charge the best path. And so they led. Sharp, undeniable, yet yielding in the face of that which struck a better path. Like a blade. A ruler with a weak blade was no ruler at all, were they not?

Murmurs sounded for a moment after his entry, but he simply took his seat at the head of the table.

"Conflict is arising on our borders, but there have been few casualties. Should be handled within the week." He was bored. There was little to speak, and the conversation was dry. Politics left him seething. Usually, Wilbur would attend small meetings like this one. But Prince NotFound was here. He had to keep up appearances.

"... the mayor of Boomerville recently reported a conflict. There was fight between a drunkard and a young boy. You can guess where that went. Otherwise, the easternmost quarter is peaceful."

"Thank you, Captain. Meeting adjourned." Dismissive, powerful, with just a touch of warning.

Just how he liked it to be.

This playing field was his to control. His and none else's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot progression is slow, but please bear with me! Got a lot of moving parts and lore with this, and I don't plan it so I'm constantly looking back for any inconsistencies.


	6. L'Manburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream reaches L'Manburg. Techno and Wilbur sing.

The carriage was beautiful. Its roof was painted with gold, the seats were silk embroidered with soft blue thread, the floor was lined with delicate velvet in a deep shade of blue. It was so lavish, so fitting of the Empire, and it sickened him. Yet, it reminded him of what he was competing for.

This kind of wealth, to write letters with golden ink and paint the roof with gold, would be more than enough to afford Ant's treatment. Only the Royal doctors were taught the method, and they were difficult to track down, let alone pay the price for. Leaning back, a soft sigh escaped him. Often he wished life was easier, wished he was born a royal, with so sickeningly few worries. But he didn't wish to be arrogant like a royal, grow too carefree and careless.

That's what he assumed of the Emperor whom he knew so little about.

His carriage came to a still, and a chauffeur dressed in white with a trimming of Antarctic blue opened the door. Two keys were hastily shoved into his hand, his luggage set beside him, and a small pouch of coin attatched to his hip.

L'Manburg. He was here now.

Looking on at the beautiful castle with the royal flag and imperial flag flying, he sucked in a breath, and braced himself for a hard-fought battle. A battle for the hand of one who he hated.

>=========<

A bee buzzed into an azalea blossom. It trailed down a delicately carved birch support that creaked in the wind. He was sitting on a bench of the same wood, but in far better condition, despite the slight layer of slick from the night's snowfall. Luckily, the day was warmer and most of the pavement was cleared of white by now.

Peaceful, with even the voices reduced to a dull murmur.

The bee flew down to touch a pool before him, surface coated in a thin coating of ice that the petite and light bee could daintily stand on. Even with nearly 3 inches of ice, he'd fall in. That fact was provided, what with his height. Inhuman. Just like the curse.

Flipping through the book - by his favorite author, Sun Tzu - he began to hum. It was a soft tune, one Wilbur used to sing to him when he was younger. Telling him how they'd rule together, as there'd be revolt if he abdicated. He'd never wanted to rule. But Wilbur was always there.

"This place is real, you needn't fret..." there the brunet stood, near messily styled to one side. He sat down beside him.

"With Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, fuck Eret," they'd used to have a rivalry with the foreign King. Techno sung that part, with the next line a harmony. "It's a very big and not blown up L'Manburg."

"My L'Manburg. My L'Man-burg."

Techno giggled, a sound that should've been foreign to such an imposing figure. "We were such kids back then. Free."

Wilbur scowled, sliding closer to his twin. "What says we aren't now?"

"Our duties as Royals, the fact that I need to find a suitor, and the fact that Schlatt should probably be booted out of the council by this point," he drawled on, sarcasm coating his every word.

Wilbur's tone became further serious. "What says we aren't now? We're still petty, we're still young - heck, we're only 19!"

"Thrust into leadership roles at a young age." His tone was wistful, and he chuckled. "Aren't we dumb? Could've done so much more, made fewer mistakes... and why don't we boot Schlatt off the council again."

"Schlatt has high popular opinion, it'd encite a rebellion in Manburg," Wilbur scoffed, _"Manburg._ What a cheap imitation of this beautiful city."

Techno nodded, and for a moment, it was completely silent. Just the two of them, softly humming together. Even Techno's cape was abandoned to rest on the posts of the small garden gazebo, ivy climbing it delicately.

"Hey Techno, I scheduled the meeting with the head of the guard like you asked. Current one is named fruit. Two days."

Of course there was a drawback.

Fearing Techno's annoyance, Wilbur slipped away, and he slipped his cloak back on. It was cold, even to him, despite the known benefits of the curse he knew so little about.

His peace and near-quiet beyond a few low droning voices didn't last long. Ranboo walked into the gardens looking nervous, holding two letters. He recognized both seals. Calvin and Nestor.

Wordlessly, Ranboo handed them the letters, not wishing to incite his rage.

Smart.

He opened the first letter. He'd usually laugh at the lack of formality of it, but his temper was short in that moment. Usually he was slow to anger, but there was so much to do in the coming days... no, not anger, stress. That was it.

_Hey Techno, bro, I'm dropping out of the competition. Know you'd wanna see me fight and all, but I didn't plan on competing further than the qualifiers. Bet Nestor will do the same._

_\- Calvin_

Short and sweet, supplemented by an easy quip. Normal of him. Beyond that, Techno had been read like a book. He knew that Techno would like them in the event for the fight, not the romance. He, Nestor, and Calvin were tight knit. Close friends and even closer partners in crime. But it was nothing further, and they didn't wish to go further.

Nestor's read the same, but far more formal, and far longer. Not near so to the point. Apologetic, even.

He didn't truly mind. There was only one person of interest now. A person to observe closely, he supposed. Especially today. Dream. The unknown in the equation, and perhaps the one who'd earn his hand, if he allowed it.

It'd be fun to watch the rest burn.

>=========<

The first key read an address. The address of a hotel. When he showed the key to the bellhop, he was quickly lead to a pristine room. Its linen looked new and freshly cleaned, there was a bath and a few bars of goat milk soap that smelled beautiful. A brass-ringed mirror was set in the wall, looking as if brand new. A small balcony jutted out from the side of the building, flowerbeds running along the railing. It overlooked the streets of L'Manburg.

Even more beautiful than rumored from higher up.

Tucking his given coins into his suitcase, he walked back into the lobby. Waving the other key to the bellhop, he was ushered toward a brunet.

"Hey, you look like you're up for the tournament! What's your name?" almost overly friendly. He thought nothing of it.

"Dream, and you?"

The brunet scribbled something in a notebook, snapping it shut and nodding. Holding his hand out for the key, Dream tentatively handed it to him, and the brunet's grin grew. "I'm H-Bomb. I'll be giving you your weapons for the tournament here in L'Manburg."

Dream struggled to keep up with him.

"People come here for so many different things. Money, fame, work, love..." he stopped in front of a building, using a key of his own to open the door. It sas locksd behind the two. "What did you come here for, Dream?"

He blinked.

"C'mon, everyone has a reason! You can tell me." Another door was unlocked, revealing a blackstone room. It was surprisingly cool for the material it was built with. Swords and axes hung from black iron rungs set in the walls, same iron plaques below them labeling enchantments. Shields were placed in the far back next to sets of... Dream let out a soft breath. Enchanted full diamond. Quickly, he set his gaze away. Crossbows, enchanted, with weakness arrows and fireworks reasy for use. Enchanted fishing rods. Bows. Flint and steel.

The key was handed back to him, alongside another. For the first door he, assumed.

"Uh..."

"At a loss for words? Just tell me what you're here for instead. Please?" Dream was perplexed by H-Bomb's adamant attitude behind his words, yet obliged.

"My friend is sick. Don't have the money to help him. Non-Contagious strain of it."

H-Bomb's expression turned to one of recognition. The egg was a mysterious disease, either contagious or not, that only the royal doctors knew how to cure. No-one was sure why the cure wasn't allowed outside of their knowledge, what with the prevalence of the disease. That was just how it was.

"My apologies. How long does he have?"

Dream have a soft snort, followed by a wheeze. "You think I know? I don't have the money enough to know."

H-Bomb gave him a look of sympathy.

"Well, Dream, just gear up. The next round of the competition is soon, and you got here surprisingly early. That's first pickings."

>=========<

A purple so deep it was almost ebony, slightly grainy with a neon glow. It was dark against the surface of the near-ebony. That was its cage. It had been for so long.

Shadows slipped inside, brooding and quite-near reprehensible. They felt like burning against its skin, and it hissed. The shadows receded, leaving but a note. How long had it been here? A visitor. An informant.

_**Soon.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating for so long! My mental health straight up became a ghost for a week and a half.

**Author's Note:**

> Side pairings?


End file.
